


It'll Be Fun

by Stoneburner



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stoneburner/pseuds/Stoneburner
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a successful banker who keeps to himself. On his 35th birthday, his estranged cousin Blaise shows up with an odd gift.*Epilogue added





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Italics are internal dialogue.

 Indicating with his hand for his assistant to approach, Draco Malfoy sat back in his plush leather chair.

"Sir, your 5:30 is here, a Mr. Wiseman." 

"Send him in. "

The petite woman left and a moment later ushered in an overweight man with a grey mustache. Draco rose and extended his hand. "Mr. Wiseman. What can we do for you today?"

The man stuffed himself into the chair opposite Draco and wiped his sweaty mustache with his hand. Draco clenched his fists. He'd have to sanitize his hands after this.

"I'd like to withdraw $20,000," The man said. 

Draco sat up a little straighter. "You've only had your investments in holdings for 2 years, Sir, and we've done prospects for a 5 year period. Are you sure you want to do this?" 

Mr. Wiseman wiped his face again. "Yes, I'm sure. I need that $20,000 early. I need it."  

Draco pulled some parchment towards himself on the desk. "Very well, what are you planning to do with the money, if you don't mind me asking?" Draco looked up after writing a few things down on his ledger. He leaned to the side to pull open the drawer of his desk and pulled out the single key that could access Mr. Wiseman's funds. The had gone red in the face and Draco was about to apologize.

"Sir-"  

"It's for CRS." 

 _Oh._ Draco didn't know what CRS was so he decided not to pry.

"Well then, here's you're key. If you'll follow me." 

Draco led Mr. Wiseman through the building, to a goblin bank teller. Once he'd handed off his client, he returned to his office. Draco told his assistant to take his calls, as he was leaving for the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco apparated home, landing at the gates. He looked up at the monstrous Malfoy mansion. From his position, he could see the whole manor. He took a moment to cast his eyes from the roof to the foot of the stairwell leading up to the threshold. Draco took a deep breath and walked up the gravel driveway. He crossed the marble steps, through the massive double doors, and into the foyer.  

His house elf was waiting for him. She accepted his coat and murmured, "Your supper is ready, sir."  
  
Draco looked down at the lowly little creature and then looked away. "You're free to retire for the evening, Missy, I can manage myself."

The house elf bowed and disappeared with a pop. 

Draco took his briefcase with him into the living room. He took off his suit coat and hung it on the coat stand. He then poured himself a tumbler three-quarter's full of brown liquid from a decanter on the side table. Sipping from the glass, Draco relished the feeling of the liquid burning down his throat. It smoldered a fiery trail into his belly that spread warmth out over his entire body.

Draco settled down on his leather sofa and switched on his wizarding television with his wand. He sat and watched the news for a few segments, and his mind drifted to think of Blaise, his cousin. 

Blaise had been the one to give Draco the adapter to make a wizarding television back when they were in college. The TV adapter was one of the very few muggle inventions that Draco couldn't live without. He liked to be kept in the loop of wizarding society even though he abstained from it. And he enjoyed the noise the TV newscasters produced. Their voices breaking the silence of the tomb-like manor.

The silence always seemed to grate on him. More so than usual lately. 

Draco sipped his drink, as he thought of his cousin. The wizarding TV droning in the background.

Draco hadn't talked to Blaise since the funerals. He hadn't talked to anyone if he was honest with himself. But Draco did see stories crop up here and there on the wizarding news that talked about Blaise. Blaise was the head of a threat management task force. Which meant that he helped keep celebrities safe from stalkers. Blaise was often in the news for helping none other then Harry potter. Potter was always in the wizarding news. Him being the savior and all; and he also had a ton of overzealous, mentally unstable fans.

As Draco's thoughts shifted from Blaise to Potter, Draco sneered and slammed his drink.

Draco got up, turned off the TV with his wand and entered the kitchen. He sat at the head of a long dining room table with one place setting. He set his napkin on his lap and began to eat. The only sound was the tinkling of Draco's cutlery crisscrossing over the china.

SLAM!

Draco jumped in his chair.

Tink.

Tink. Tink.

Tink.

Draco stood, the feet of his chair squealing against the marble. He headed towards the repetitive sound finding himself in the drawing room.

Upon seeing an owl pecking at the glass, he rushed over to the window and opened it. He stepped back, let the wet bird inside, and accepted the rolled up scroll tied to its leg. Draco then shooed the bird away. He shut the window and opened the parchment.

 

**Dear Draco,**  
**Happy Birthday, Cousin! I'd like to treat you to a meal tomorrow.**

**Meet with me at the three broomsticks and we'll get lunch.**

  
**Blaise.**

  

Draco set down the parchment in thought. Blaise was his only living acquaintance. He'd pushed everyone else away over the years. And although Draco and Blaise had been close, they hadn't seen each other in 10 years. He thought about it and finally decided to forgo the meeting.

He looked around the drawing room. His eyes drawn to the center of the large ornate Indian red carpet before the fireplace. His vision stuck for a moment and then Draco broke out of his morose thoughts. He left the drawing room, leaving the missive on the desk, and headed upstairs to bathe and finish with his nightly rituals. 

Wet hair slicked back, and a large puffy green robe enveloping him, Draco checked the locks and the wards. He double checked on his bank accounts, with a bit of spell work, and then he laid in bed staring at the ceiling. Draco fell asleep thinking about the gun he'd stashed in a fake book in the study. The only other muggle invention in his possession. Draco thinks it would be fitting, like father like son, both killing themselves on their 35th birthdays.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco squinted and rolled away from the sunshine sweeping through his blinds. Yawning, he opened his eyes and stretched. He tried to remember his dream, but he could only remember that he was having one.

Draco got up and ready for work. He drank his morning tea as he picked up the Prophet newspaper and read about an upcoming Ball. Draco never participated in social events, so he read ahead. He eventually landed on an Op-Ed about Harry Potter being a pan-sexual supervillain. Draco scoffed aloud as he read it and then found himself late to be heading off to work.

His day progressed as normal. He stopped for his lunch break and told his assistant to take his calls. He was nearing the exit of Gringotts, looking out onto the bustling street, when he saw him. His cousin, dressed fully in black, stood there staring right at him with a smirk on his face.

"Blaise," Draco said as he approached.

"Draco," Blaise said as he moved to give Draco a hug. Draco didn't respond in kind and the affection was short lived.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Draco asked.

Blaise tilted his head and tsked. He patted Draco on the shoulder and turned him. Throwing an arm around his shoulder, Blaise led Draco out of the building. "Oh, come off it, I'm taking you to lunch, you prat."

Draco walked with his cousin to the bar around the corner. They sat and ordered some salads and hard liquor.

While he sipped his drink, Draco appraised Blaise. "You're looking well."

"and you." He replied. Blaise pulled an envelope out of his pocket. "I got you something."

Draco accepted the envelope and opened it. Inside was a superhero children's card. A small silver business card fell out of the birthday card and Draco turned it over in his hands. He looked at Blaise in askance.

"I was straining myself trying to find out what to get you for your birthday, I know it's a hard one..."

Draco swallowed, and Blaise continued.

"So, I got you this. It's a personalized game. I've done it before. It's great. All you have to do is show up at that address and the game begins."

"What sort of game?" Draco asked.

"There's no way to describe it. Everyone's game is different. It's tailored to you. You're either playing or you're not."

"How did you get involved with it?"

"A business contact gave me a game card after a job and I couldn't resist the curiosity."

"And?"

Blaise shrugged and moved aside for the server to place his dish in front of him. He smiled.

"What? Try it, Draco. It'll be fun!"

Draco twirled the card in his fingers before putting it into his suit pocket. "I'll think about it."


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night, Draco apparated home from work. He transfigured his briefcase into a hat as soon as he felt the rain patter against his skin. His lips pinched together. His gaze swept up to the roof of the mansion and then down to the stairwell. He took a deep breath and started up the driveway. As Draco approached the entryway the massive ornate wooden doors swung open.

His house elf awaited him as always.

"Sir, supper is ready, and your mail is on the counter."

Draco passed the elf his coat and hat. "Thank you. That will be all tonight." 

Draco headed to the living room and poured himself a drink from the decanter. He took the drink with him to the kitchen, flicking on the wizard television with his wand as he walked passed.

Draco saw a few pieces of mail on the counter and he opened them all, discarding them. Bills. Investment quarterly statements. Nothing personal. Draco swallowed his shame. He had nothing and no one.

He took another swallow of liquor and sat down on a bar stool, leaning his elbows on the counter.

 _I don't need anyone,_ he thought to himself, _the only person you can rely on is yourself._

Draco sat and swallowed more liquid fire.

Sure. Both of his parents were dead. He no personal attachments to the world, save a house elf. But what had any of them given him in the past, but pain and heartache anyway?

He was a self-made man, wealthy beyond measure, and very good at his job. Sure he may not have any current love interest or anyone to talk to besides his therapist, but Draco liked his life. It was orderly. He knew what to expect. He was in control. Nothing surprised him. Nothing like coming home on his 25th birthday to see his own mother jumping off the roof.

He stilled as he realized he'd broken the glass in his hand.

Draco breathed deeply and used his wand to clean away the mess. Yawning, he decided against dinner. Instead, he went thru his nightly rituals of checking his accounts and the wards around the manor. He sat up in bed, reading a book until slumber took him.


	5. Chapter 5

"It's a civic holiday!" The newscaster on the wizard television said as Draco got ready for work.

It was then that Draco realized that the bank wouldn't be open. He huffed, kicking out his fresh pressed suit legs. He crossed his ankles and stared at his black socks. He hated holidays and weekends. He liked to stay busy. Work kept him occupied. Draco sighed, set his tea aside and pulled out his wand to check on his accounts.

After puttering around in the manor for most of the morning, Draco's boredom got the best of him. He had some work in his briefcase to do, but he couldn't stop thinking about the card that Blaise gave him. Despite his initial dismissal and current hesitation, he couldn't deny he was curious.

Before he knew what he was doing, Draco's fished the card out of his wallet and apparated to Diagon Alley to transfer through to London. He hailed a cab and gave the driver the destination. The cabby was chatty.

"Ooh! You're going to CRS! That's a trip, man! My baby momma's dad died and she ended up with 4 free invites and I can not explain it man, whew, what a trip!"

Draco was about to desert his foolish plan, but then the cab stopped and the guy twisted in his seat. He smiled at Draco as he accepted his fare. "Have fun!" He grinned.

Draco grunted as he got out of the cab and looked up at the tall multi-corporation building before him. He straightened his sleeve cuffs and entered the glass doors. He saw a directory state CRS was on the second floor. Draco took the elevator. As he exited the lift, he saw a female receptionist. "Welcome." She said.

"Hello," Draco replied.

"Do you have your game token?" She asked.

Draco frowned and handed her the grey business card.

The woman scanned the card and Draco didn't recall there being a bar code on it.

"Here," the woman handed him a pen and clipboard, "Fill these forms out and we'll get started."

Draco followed the secretary's pointed finger to a waiting room and took a seat.


	6. Chapter 6

After filling out the forms, Draco waited in the waiting room for an hour and a half, fretting about why he was even there to begin with. He was about to stand up and leave when a door opened. A man came out. He was tall, bald, and had glasses. He introduced himself as Mr. Green and they shook hands.

Mr. Green apologized about the wait and then led Draco down a hallway.

Draco looked around as they walked. He noticed that the offices were all partitioned off with clear and frosted glass. For a moment Draco saw through a doorway and saw none other than Harry Potter. Draco was positive he wasn't mistaken because the two had locked eyes for the brief moment.

 _What in Hades was Potter doing here?_ He thought.

Draco took a seat in Mr. Green's office.

"Welcome to CRS. Our goal here is to make sure you enjoy living your life. This is an interactive real-world game, where as soon as you leave here you'll begin playing. Now, to make sure we don't make the game too hard or easy for you, we need to do some mental, physical and psychological tests. We'll need your consent here."

Draco accepted the offered pen and read over the legal agreement.

"$20,000?" Draco sputtered. His mind flashed to his client getting exactly that much out of his account the other day.

Mr. Green smiled benignly."Indeed. It's an expensive game."

Draco gritted his teeth and signed away his money and consent.

 _I thought this was a birthday present. Now it's costing me._ He thought.

"Alright. Let's start the tests." Mr. Green rubbed his hands together.

 

Hours later, Draco's entire body was on fire. He'd spent all day doing mental and physical training. Cooling down his heart rate by walking on a treadmill, Draco inspected the weird muggle electrodes stuck all over his head and body. Draco wanted to go home. This wasn't fun. He had no idea why anyone in their right mind would put themselves through this.

Mr. Green came in shortly after that and divested him of his electrodes and gave Draco an envelope. Draco opened the envelope and saw it was a piece of paper.

 

**Call 1-800-888-8888 if there is an emergency in your game.**

 

Draco got cleaned up and left the building. He crossed the road to a pitch black alley and stepped into the darkness before apparating home.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco apparated home, landing in the grass by the gates. He cast his eyes towards the mansion, his gaze sweeping from the roof to the ground. Mid-step, he stopped. There was something at the base of the stairwell.

Draco's heart hammered in his chest. He recalled the last time he saw something lying in that exact spot. His mother's lifeless body.

He took a deep breath and walked up the gravel driveway.

Blood rushing through his ears, Draco approached the shape of a woman. He stopped once he was standing over her, seeing she was, in fact, a posed porcelain doll.

Draco stared down at the macabre scene.

The doll had silky blond hair, closed eyes, and a pale white face with red lips. She was dressed in a black lace 18th-century gown.

Draco didn't know how long he stood over the doll staring. All he could see were snapshots of memories. Draco had found his mother in this same fashion. The doll was in the exact same position.

Draco swallowed a mouthful of acrid saliva and took a deep breath.

_This must be someones sick sense of a joke._ He thought.

He reached down and grabbed the doll, dragging it with him by the hand. Draco crossed the marble steps and into the manor as the massive double doors swung open to admit him.

"Missy!" Draco hollered and then blinked.

Missy wasn't waiting for him in the foyer, and Draco stood stalk still. Confused.

 

After a moment, Draco dropped the doll to the floor, closed the doors, hung up his own coat and headed into the kitchen. Dinner was upon the table. Draco sat and ate, calling for "Missy" in the abject silence.

After he finished eating, Draco cleaned up with a wave of his wand and headed back to the living room through the foyer. He grabbed the doll from the floor, dragging it behind him. He turned on his wizard television with his wand and was calmed by the hum of the newscasters' chit-chat.

Draco sat the doll on a chair by the sideboard to look it over. Its eyelids opened, as the doll was righted to a sitting position. Draco inspected the doll. It appeared creepy, but it was nothing more than a doll.

Draco poured himself a drink from the decanter and then sat down on the couch to watch the news. He was about to doze off when the news anchor on TV said his name, "Draco Malfoy".

Draco opened his eyes and saw the TV anchor talking about Harry Potter. Draco caught a quick glimpse of Harry Potter led in handcuffs. And then the news anchor looked directly at Draco and spoke.

"Welcome to your game, Draco." Draco blinked in shock and sat up straight. "Here are the rules: There aren't any. Your mission is to figure out the game. Everyone's game is different so no one can help you. You must figure this out yourself. If there is an emergency, call this number: 1-800-888-888. Do not call asking what the object of the game is. Figuring that out is the object of the game."

The news anchor on the tv tipped his head and then the TV's picture flickered and Draco recognized the visual. The TV was showing himself on camera, in his own living room, from behind himself.

"What the-?" Draco shrieked.

He jumped up, in fright, and dropped his tumbler to the ground.

Looking back and forth between the doll and the TV, Draco realized he was being filmed. He broke the porcelain doll face, sensing that's where the camera was.

As soon as he'd smashed the dolls face against the marble floor the TV flickered back to normal. The newscasters talking about Harry Potter giving a speech in the next few days and a recent fire at Olivander's. Draco inspected the damaged doll. Within the broken doll's facial cavity, Draco found a red ribbon. He pulled on the ribbon and at the end of the length was a skeleton key. Draco took a deep breath and cleaned his spill with a wave of his wand, banishing the doll along with it.

After he completed his evening rituals, Draco checked his accounts, secured his wards and fell into a fitful sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco spent the weekend at home, searching for his house-elf and dealing with a string of bad luck. His briefcase wouldn't open, so he couldn't do the work he had brought home. His lucky pen leaked all over his one of a kind couch, staining the Italian leather. Draco felt like everything that could go wrong was going wrong.

He inspected the mysterious skeleton key all weekend but he had no idea where to use it.

 

On Monday, after a successful morning of meetings, Draco was making tea in the staff kitchen. He overheard a few workmates talking and one of them mentioned CRS. Draco extended his focus to eavesdrop, but it seemed they were about to change topics.

He stepped towards them. "I'm sorry to interrupt, I thought I'd heard someone mention CRS?"

The three chatters all turned and Draco found their tandem smiles eerie.

"Oh my god! CRS is amazing!"

"A life-altering experience."

"Are you currently playing?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, I'm unsure, though. I found a key and have no idea what it unlocks."

The three all nodded and let out different sounds of "Mmm hmm."

Draco tried again. "Any advice?"

The three creepy smiles withdrew and then the shortest of the group frowned, "It's not our place to help you. It's your game."

Then the three were walking away and Draco pulled the key out of his pocket and looked at it. It looked an awful lot like a vault key. Draco put it back in his pocket and headed to his office.

 

Draco opened his desk drawer and inspected the empty receptacle. He took the key from his pocket and set it in the drawer before closing it. He signed his name on the ledger and then reopened the drawer.

Draco's jaw descended.  _What the BLOODY hell?! He thought._

Draco reached into the now full drawer and pulled out a handful of pictures from a pile. He pondered through them. He was in wizard photos, dancing and drinking, doing drugs and behaving like a depraved wild child... with none other than Harry Potter.

Draco knew that these things didn't actually happen, but he couldn't stop staring at the photographs. They appeared real. After a moment Draco looked around the drawer and found some drug paraphernalia. He then saw a picture of himself kissing Potter and he stopped, gobsmacked because his heart thudded in his chest.  _We look good together, _Draco thought.__

Draco watched the moving photo play out. He felt a race of fire alight in his belly and shoot down to his genitals. He gulped and set down the picture on his desk, turning it over.

Sitting back, he blinked in remembrance. Draco hadn't felt any stirrings of sexual desire since the day before his 25th birthday, 10 years ago.

Draco let his mind lend back and he was soon swept up in memories.

The day before his 25th birthday, Draco had been happy. He'd opened up his first investment account for his first official client. His boss had given him a bonus for it and Draco had been so proud of his accomplishments. He'd had a secret boyfriend at the time. He hadn't been hiding him, but it had never seemed appropriate to bring it to light. 

Draco had been so happy, he'd expected his family to be happy for him as well. So he had made a brash decision that evening. Draco and his beau had left their celebratory supper at a posh restaurant. Infused with a warm glow, Draco threw caution to the wind and kissed his boyfriend then. It was a beautiful, tender moment under the restaurant's portico.

He remembers his thought process in that wonderful moment, _'What did it matter if, by chance, the prophet snapped a picture of him kissing his significant other? It was such a momentous occasion. And who's business was it but his own?'_

Draco had found out the next day, his birthday, who else his actions would affect.

Draco had arrived at the manor with a smile on his face. He remembers like it was yesterday, a single moment stretched. A millisecond he'd since dissected a million times.

The loud CRACK! of his apparating onto the grounds gave his mother a moments pause before she threw her body from the roof. 

Draco blinked as he tried to force himself out of the memory. The Melancholy visions persisted and dragged him back in. His mind replayed memories in emotional fragments. Draco recalled running to her lifeless body at the foot of the stairs. He'd called out to her crying. Begging. Yelling out for help. He'd glanced around bereft until his mind flashed to his father.  

Draco had run inside, down the hall and into the drawing room. There he stopped short as he saw the large black puddle soaking into the ornate Indian red rug that dominated the room. There was a crystal tumbler next to it that was still clutched in a death grip by his father's grey-blue hand.

He had stood staring at his dead father until Missy had pulled him from the room. The house elf had called the authorities, Draco remembered, while he had been in shock. He had sat on his bed staring at the walls for days on days. Torturing himself by replaying his memories over and over. Seeing his mother fall. Watching as his father's poisonous potion dried into the carpet.

Draco gulped air and opened his eyes. He wrenched at his necktie that was feeling restricting and tight. He then spied something written on the back of the picture upon his desk. He brought it closer and read an address. Draco returned the photo to the drawer, along with the others and closed it. Upon reopening the drawer the only thing in it was a lone skeleton key. He put it in his pocket.

_What the hell was going on?_


	9. Chapter 9

At the end of his workday, Draco retrieved the picture of Potter and himself kissing and put it in his wallet.

He took a cab to the muggle hotel address on the back of the picture and entered the lavish lobby.

Draco headed up to the main desk and the bellhop recognized him. "Mr. Malfoy. I hope you're well."

Draco paused. "We've met before?"

The bellhop seemed perplexed, but he smiled, "Yes, sir."

Draco glanced around, not at all familiar with his surroundings.

Right. The game. He was playing an odd game. Draco nodded to himself. "Yes, well, I'm looking for room 348."

The bellhop shuffled a few things around and then extended a key card out to Draco. "Here you are."

"Thank you," Draco said and he made it halfway across the hotel lobby before he felt like someone was watching him. He glanced around but didn't see anyone in the lobby. And the bellhop was looking at his desk.

Draco got in the elevator and pressed the third-floor button. The lift ascended to the second floor and then came to an abrupt stop.

Draco started to panic. Arms extended against the walls, heart pounding, he tried to breathe normally. Seconds ticked.

The only sound in the elevator was his beating heart.

bump bump

bump bump

bump bump

Draco dropped his arms as his stomach dropped. The elevator cables disengaged causing the floor of the compartment to drop a foot. He hollered in fright. "Ahh!"

He landed with his back against the wall, in a half crouch. Then the cables reengaged. Draco could hear the metal of the lift grinding over his own heavy breathing. He strove to not move a muscle. Seconds ticked and then the elevator continued its ascent as if nothing had happened.

As the elevator doors opened Draco rushed to step out onto the third floor. He stood there a moment, grounding himself. He then followed the placards on the walls to room 348.

Draco slid his key card into the door and entered the hotel room. He could smell something was off when he stepped inside. The door shut behind him and Draco stepped a few feet into the suite. Looking around, Draco realized that he didn't want to be there. There was a body on the bed in a surreal position, dead, and there were splatters of blood on the walls and carpet.

Draco turned around as the sound of the door opening spooked him and then there was a gun in his face, "LCPD. Put your hands up!"

Draco, raised his arms, dumbstruck.

"Get down on the ground, Hands behind your back!" 

Draco was about to crouch when out of the en-suite bathroom a masked figure emerged. The hulking figure rushed into the room. Draco glimpsed a figure clad in black brandishing a large bloody knife before he was pushed to the ground. Blood splashed his suit, and Draco grimaced as he pushed himself up.

The police chased after their suspect, leaving Draco alone in the room. 

It took two seconds for Draco's brain to register everything that had happened. He verified that he was alone and apperated home.

 

Finding himself on his own plot of land, Draco sighed in relief. From his spot in the grass, he could see the mansion. And he squinted as he saw flashing lights shining through his windows. There were people moving about inside his house.

Draco was about to start up the driveway, but he stopped when he noticed several black vans parked. The sides of the Vans all had CRS labeled on them and Draco decided he'd had enough. It was time to put a stop to this expensive, stupid game. Someone had died in that hotel room.

Draco decided to call on the Aurors to investigate. He showed up at the Ministry of Magic and explained his issue to the admin. The admin looked skeptical during Draco's report. Draco stated that he wouldn't leave until he was escorted to CRS to figure out what the hell was going on.

 

After an hour Draco looked up to see Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley approach. Draco chuckled to himself at the irony. He was stuck in this idiotic game and he felt like this too was a part of it. Debasing himself before his grade school nemeses. This game seemed to be a cosmic joke on his control crafted life.

Sucking up his self-pity, Draco tried to be polite.  
"Granger. Weasley. "

"Malfoy," Ron said.

Hermione smiled. "We hear you're having a business problem?" 

Draco wasn't sure how to explain, but he tried.

"There's this business called CRS, and they've done something to me. I signed up for some sort of real-life game. And It's all very confusing. I found a creepy doll, and that was fine, but now I'm finding people murdered. And I'm positive that I was nearly framed for a muggle murder tonight."

Weasley looked dubious but wrote down scribbles in a notepad. Granger looked thoughtful. Pulling her key ring from her pocket, Hermione asked, "Where is the location of this CRS?"

Draco gave her the address and she bewitched a key into a port key. Draco and Weasley each reached over to touch the key and soon all three arrived in London a block from CRS.

Draco and the two Aurors entered the large multi-corporation building. The three stepped into the elevator. Draco was happy it operated as it should and they stepped out onto the second floor.

Draco stopped and stared.

_Where was everything?_

He stepped forward another few steps and looked around aghast. "What the hell?"

Draco swung around to look at the confused Aurors, then back at the empty space.

There were no offices, no test stations, no receptionist, no nothing. Only a Large open void of space. Flabbergasted, Draco's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.

"So... It appears there's nothing here, Malfoy., Ron said.

Draco spun and blinked. "I don't understand. CRS was here. I was here." he said.

Hermione pulled out her muggle cell phone, punching in some things. "I'll look into records."  
Draco saw she looked skeptical and he felt that she was trying to help out of pity.

Draco sat down where he was standing and put his head in his hands.

 _What was going on?_  

"Wait! I saw Potter here! He's your friend, you'll have to believe him!" Draco said.

Draco stood up, excited, but noticed the two sharing a shifty look.

"What?" He asked.

Hermione sighed. "We don't talk to Harry anymore, Malfoy. No one does."

Draco frowned. "No. I've seen it on the news, you guys are pals."

Ron stepped in. "We haven't talked to Harry since, jeez, since a decade ago."

"What?" Draco asked. "That makes no sense. You guys are the Golden trio!"

"Malfoy. Harry's been held up in his house for the last 10 years, there's no way he's been on the news." Hermione said.

Draco shook his head, none of this made sense. He'd watched the news every night for the last decade. There was no way he had imagined all the Harry bloody Potter references.

"We can take you to him." Ron said. "To help you believe."

Draco grew more confused. "I don't understand."

"He's been in a coma for 10 years, Malfoy." Ron explained.

_What?!_

Draco's mouth opened, and then finally settled on closed. He nodded. "Okay."

_Lets prove that I'm insane._


	10. Chapter 10

Draco stood in the doorway of Harry Potter's bedroom. Alongside him were two Aurors. He stared at the peaceful looking figure. The Boy Who Lived was lying on his back, hands clasped in front of him upon clean linens. Draco stared at Potter's prone body in its restful pose.

In his peripheral vision, Draco saw Hermione take a phone call out into the hallway.

Draco turned to Ron. The redhead was looking around the bedroom, picking up things and looking at them like he hadn't seen them in a while.

Draco was beyond bewildered. 

_How could this be happening? How could I have seen Potter at CRS? I'm certain I held eye contact with him, yet here he was before me in a coma! And how did CRS disappear? Didn't the people working there have jobs?_  

Draco shook his head and grimaced. He was so confused. 

Hermione came back in the room then telling Ron they had a "Six-Four" whatever that meant. 

Ron nodded, looked at Draco and said, "We've got to go. Duty calls. You're welcome to have a moment with Harry here. The wards will lock behind you when you leave."

Mute, Draco nodded. 

 

He stood there for a long while after they left. He stared at the Boy Who Lived, now the Boy Who Lived In a Coma. 

 

Draco remembered the picture in his wallet and he pulled it out. He could see Harry Potter moving in the picture.

Draco moved towards Potter. He sat down beside him and after a moment grabbed his wrist. He felt for a pulse and once he'd found one he relaxed, yet kept his grip. Draco scrutinized Harry Potter: His arms, his neck, his face. He had an unobstructed view. Draco had never in his life observed Potter up so close. Before he could stop himself he leaned forward and kissed the corpse like Savior before him. 

Pulling back, disgusted with himself, Draco's eyes widened in shock. Vibrant Verdant green eyes blinked up at him.

Draco scuttled back, falling off of the bed onto the floor. "What the fuck?!" 

Potter sat up rubbing his neck.

"It's about time, Malfoy." He said.

Struck dumb, Draco stared. 

"So, are you having fun yet?" Potter asked with an impish smile. He then stood up from the bed and stretched.

Draco finally got it. Potter had been behind this the whole time! Draco stood and pointed a stern finger in Potter's face. 

"You!" He growled.

Harry put up his hands in mock surrender. "Don't look at me. It's CRS!" 

Draco relaxed, "You know who CRS is?"

Potter dropped his hands and sat down on a florally patterned love seat across from the bed.

"Of course I know who they are, Malfoy. I got trapped in that little sleeping beauty act as part of my game. Now I'm waiting for you to lead me to my next clue... Or level... Or, whatever the hell is going to happen next."

Potter looked at Draco, eyebrows raised, looking expectant.

Draco swallowed. "So you're in a game, and I'm in a game? And we've- what? Coalesced?"

Potter shrugged. "I guess. Why else would you be here?"

Draco saw the photo he must have dropped in his fright. He picked it up from the floor and passed it to Potter then he sat next to him on the couch. "Here." He said.

Potter looked at the picture and then at Draco. He looked scandalized. It pleased Draco to see the red blush spread up Potters throat and end in his cheeks. "What? I didn't-"

Draco nodded. "I know. I didn't either. But it led me to you."

Potter looked down at the picture again and then passed it back to Draco. "Alright, so, you're in your game. I'm in mine... And, apparently, you have a Boy Who Lived fetish."

Draco scoffed. "Oh and you! What do you want? To be saved by some true loves kiss?!"

Potter Scowled. "Fuck you, Malfoy. It's part of the game. I need a drink."

Potter got up and stalked out of the room. Draco stood, pocketed the photograph and followed the other wizard. As he entered the kitchen Potter turned to him and tipped his beer. "Want one?"

"Sure" Draco replied.

Potter got a cold beer out of the fridge and handed it over. Draco popped the top off his bottle and took a few swallows in silence. He watched as Potter seemed preoccupied with the little muggle cell phone in his hands.

Draco looked up at Potter's gasp.

"What?" Draco asked.

"No way. No! FUCKING hell!" Potter looked over at Draco, and then back to his phone. "They took all my money! CRS took all my fucking money!"

Draco instinctively stood up and pulled out his wand to do some quick spell work. Checking on his accounts, his mouth ran dry as he saw that he too had no money left.

Draco dry heaved. He had to lean against the wall as his vision hazed.

_What in Merlin's name was going on?_

Draco began to feel woozy. The beer bottle slipped through his fingertips to land with a thud upon the ground, followed by his wand. Draco sat down his heavy body into the chair he'd recently vacated. He looked up to find Potter staring at him.

_What is he staring at?_   Draco wondered

Potter smiled and stepped closer.

"CRS actually couldn't get into your accounts, Malfoy. Not until you just now showed me your unlocking ward. Thanks to you, I'm now 600 Million Galleons richer."

Draco clutched his chest, gasped, "Potter!" and then fell from the chair into matte darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

Draco squinted open his eyes. There was a sliver of light pointed right in his pupil. He shifted, turned his head, and tried to move his body. Feeling restriction on all sides, Draco panicked. He became a hyperventilating neurotic mess as he realized he was enclosed in a coffin. Draco flailed around in the cramped darkness. He cried and yelled. He tried to push and punch at the walls of his confinement, rattling around like a rock in a can.

It took a few minutes for him to wear himself out and catch his breath.

Draco tried to calm himself down so he could think.

 _I'm not buried alive. I can see light thru a tiny crevice. I just need to break myself out._ He thought.

Draco shimmied his body down to the bottom of the coffin. He braced himself against the walls and began stomping on the wood.

 

After what felt like hours, Draco kicked the wooden bottom off. His legs were numb. The small box filled with sunlight, and he wormed is way out with an exhilarated gasp.

Draco squinted, sucking in lungfuls of the cool fresh air. He sat in the sand, one knee in a tide pool, gazing into the greatness of the sloshing sea. Seagulls cried. The sky was vast, blue and cloudless.

Draco was thankful for escaping imprisonment.

He felt cleansed as the sunshine washed over him. He stayed sitting there a while.

 

Draco forced himself to stand as he started to shiver. He took inventory of himself. He had no shoes on, no money, and no wand. He was wearing an old suit and he found his fathers pocket watch in the breast pocket. Draco's throat constricted as he looked down at the watch in his hand. He hadn't held it since his fathers funeral when he'd received it.

Draco forced his shaky wet legs to walk and he crossed the sandy shore heading inland.

 

Draco wandered into the little fishing town hoping to find some food. He tried asking for help in the pub and they kick him out for begging. From there he headed into the old town store but got told to leave because he had no shoes on. Draco had then spied two vagabonds riffling through trashcans. He watched them climb into a dumpster behind the bakery. Draco waited until they left and then climbed in himself. He didn't want anyone catching him stealing trash so he stuffed a few bread bits in his pockets and climbed out.

Draco walked a block away from the scene of the crime and sat under a tree to eat. Filthy, tired, and alone he was thankful to be eating food. He chewed pensively.

_Where am I?_

An elderly woman with greasy hair and pockmarks pushed her buggy full of cans and bottles down the road towards him. Chewing the last of his bread, Draco watched her stop before him. She stared back, silently scowling.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

The woman pointed at Draco's bare feet with a gnarled yellow fingernail. "You should stand outside the Salvation Army until someone buys you some shoes." She said.

"Thanks," Draco said. "And where's that?"

The woman pointed in the direction she'd come from and then she continued to push her cart forward on the sidewalk. Draco watched her go. 

He stood moments later and brushed himself off. He started walking down the sidewalk as directed. He figured once he found some shoes, everything would get a whole lot easier.

Draco found the Salvation Army and the old lady was right. He'd only had to debase himself, standing barefoot before the store, for five minutes. An older woman with a patchwork purse led her teenage daughter to the entrance way. The mom looked Draco up and down and then ushered him inside alongside them. "Come along, everyone needs shoes."

The two females granted Draco a pair of well-worn trainers. The mother handed Draco a five-pound note and a free coffee coupon. Draco didn't know where he could redeem the coupon, but he stuffed his gains in his pants pocket. He told the ladies that he was grateful. Shocked, he realized he was sincere.

 _When was the last time I was this grateful?_  

He left then, walking along the main street, feeling like a new man. Draco saw today's newspaper in a passing shop and stopped. His smile dropped. Draco stood still and shaken.

_What the hell am I doing in Muggle Scotland?!_

Draco decided there was nothing for it but to hitchhike. He'd never done it before, but he knew the international symbol of holding a thumb out. It ended up taking Draco a full two days to hitchhike to London from Scotland. He supposed he didn't look like the type to pick up off the side of the road, because he ended up walking a lot of the distance. It wasn't until Leeds that Draco got a stable ride into London with a truck driver. 

The driver, since he was heading through to Brighton, was able to drop Draco off right at the manor's front gates. Draco was grateful, he thanked the man and gave him all he had - a five-pound note. Draco watched the truck drive off into the distance before he entered the grounds. He walked up the gravel drive and straight into the broken open front doors.

The manor was a mess. Ransacked, as if a herd of wild Erumpents had gallivanted indoors. Draco followed the mess into the living room. He jumped as his television sparked to life.

The newscaster taunted him, "Are you having fun yet?"

Draco tried to stay calm. He was panicking, though. He didn't have his wand, or his fortune, or his house. Draco squeezed his eyes shut in angst.

_But I do have my gun._

Draco opened his eyes, took a deep breath and headed into the study. He stopped short upon seeing a puddle of black liquid pooling in the center of the Indian red rug. He tried to blink away the image before him but the dark puddle didn't dissolve. There was a glass tumbler upended on the carpet, and Missy, his house-elf sprawled dead.

Draco retched on the floor.

After several moments of grief, Draco located a book in a bookshelf. He opened the cover and withdrew his revolver from within the secret compartment. Draco stuffed the gun into the waistband of his pants. This had to end.


	12. Chapter 12

Draco uncovered some petty cash he had laying around the Manor and ordered a cab to take him downtown. The CRS headquarters may no longer exist but Draco planned to do recon. He had to at least try. He wandered around the block, around the old CRS building, looking for anyone he may recognize.

After a few hours, Draco grew hopeless. He bought cheap street-cart meat and walked up to the empty CRS floor one last time.

Draco ate, contemplating. Then, as he stood to leave, the elevator dinged and opened.

Draco dropped the wooden stick from his hands and pulled out his gun. He had six shots. He planned to make them count.

Draco stared at Mr. Green standing in the elevator.

"Don't move!" Draco shouted.

He rushed towards the elevator and slid between the doors before they closed. Draco pressed the emergency stop button with one hand and kept the barrel of the gun trained on Mr. Green. The tall man backed up, arms raised. Draco backed him against the wall.

"You're going to take me to the CRS headquarters right now," Draco said.

Mr. Green eyed the gun and nodded.

Draco pressed the emergency stop button again and asked, "Well?"

"Floor thirteen." Mr. Green said.

Draco paused. _Of course, CRS was still in the same building. Tricky._ He thought.

Draco pressed the button for the thirteenth floor while keeping his gun aimed at Mr. Green. They traveled in silence as Draco wondered what awaited him on the floor above.

Once they arrived, the doors opened to reveal a luxurious Gala.

_What the hell?_ Draco thought

Draco dropped his gun to his side and slid it beneath his blazer.

There were jazz musicians and the lavish party in full swing. Guests were in suits and ties, but Draco's eyesight honed in on one figure. His eyes plucked out Potter in a second.

Potter was stepping down from a large inset stage. He looked up, in that same moment, and spotted Draco.

Draco pushed Mr. green out of the elevator, and the man scuttled away.

Potter crossed the ballroom floor, towards Draco. He stopped before elevator doors, smirking. "What's this? What do you think you're going to do, Malfoy?"

Draco was furious at Potter. He couldn't believe that the prat had drugged him and left him for dead in a coffin in Scotland. Draco wanted to shoot him right there. Instead, he grabbed Potter by the arm and dragged him into the elevator. He pulled out his gun to level at Potter as the doors closed. Draco stabbed at the button for the roof.

Potter raised his hands and eyed the gun. "There's CRS agents everywhere, Malfoy. What do you think is going to happen here?"

Draco ignored Potter as he watched the numbers of the lift ascend.

"They'll get you on the roof, Malfoy, Potter said.

The lift arrived after a tense silence and Draco directed Potter out with his revolver. They pass through a hall and then a fire door which Draco locked.

Draco urged Potter out onto the windy rooftop with his gun.

"The CRS agents are gonna be up here any minute," Potter said.

"Shut up!" Draco shouted. He kept his gun trained on Potter and jumped when the fire door rattled.

"Where's my money Potter?" Draco demanded.

Potter, hands at half-mast, shrugged, "You shouldn't take it personally, Malfoy. It could have been anyone with a lot of money."

Draco scowled and shook his head. "No. You targeted me. The doll left like my mother. My elf left like my father. The pictures of you and I kissing. This was all targeted. It was personal. This is not a game, Potter!"

Draco grew so angry at the end of his rant he swung his gun two feet from Potter's head and pulled the trigger.

 

BANG.

 

Potter jumped. 

Draco seethed and trained the gun back on Potter.

Potter's eyes were as wide as saucers. For the first time, he actually appeared fearful. He backpedaled.

"You're right. It's not a game, Malfoy- Draco. You're right. It's a birthday present. It's a party. Blaise set it up."

Draco looked from Potter to the door. He could hear the CRS agents rattling the door trying to break the lock.

"Stop lying, Potter!" he shouted. His finger was itching to pull the trigger.

The fire door broke open and Draco, panicking, shot at the first man thru the door.

 

BANG

SMASH

 

He heard glass shatter before he registered with his eyes what happened. Draco focused on the scene at the door.

He'd shot Blaise.

His cousin dropped to his knees clutching his chest. Blaise looked down at his scarlet hands. He gasped. His dour eyes bore into Draco before he keeled over and died.

Next to Blaise was a broken champagne bottle.

Draco gawked.

He swung his head around.

Potter was staring at him with wide stupefied eyes.

Draco blinked repeatedly, not understanding, as his eyes filled.

In a daze, Draco dropped the gun. He turned his wordless lips towards Blaise. Tears fell down his cheeks. His ears were ringing. 

Draco stopped breathing as his chest filled with a pervasive ache.

"Malfoy?" Harry said.

Draco turned to him. He tried to respond. He tried to breathe. He couldn't swallow. He couldn't control his mouth. He couldn't control anything.

Draco stared into Potters eyes and then he took two steps off the edge of the building.


	13. Chapter 13

 

Draco, in the last decade of his life, had considered suicide many times. The thing that always stopped him from jumping was the stories from the survivors. He'd heard that they often knew as soon as their feet left the precipice that they wanted to live.

Self-preservation instinct some called it.

_Did my mother?_

Draco didn't regret it, the moment that he jumped. He wanted to die. He had wanted to die for a decade.

The wind whipped around his body during the free fall.

Beautiful memories with his mother and father flashed like lightning behind his eyelids. The most tender feelings engulfed him. He felt washed clear of the torment that before gripped his heart.

 

It was about midway down, that Draco changed his mind.

 

Quick successive visions assaulted Draco's sensibilities. Visions of the bonds he'd held with his cousin Blaise. They'd been close since they were young children. They'd attended Hogwarts together, and college.

The last image imprinted on the back of Draco's eyelids is of Blaise grabbing his bloody chest.

 

Draco smashed through the glass ceiling of the building next door.

 

Draco opened his eyes, confused.

_What the?_

Draco blinked the tears out of his eyes.

_Am I alive?_

Draco shook himself and tried to move. There was glass everywhere. Draco realized he was in a giant inflated air mattress and he scrambled to climb out. Draco looked around. There were hundreds of people standing around in silence staring at him. Draco's nerves buzzed.

  
From behind him, a familiar voice started singing, "Happy Birthday to You."

Draco whipped around in astonishment to find Blaise alive and smiling. Draco rushed to him and he patted Blaise down in speechless disbelief.

The band started another tune and those surrounding them clapped and cheered as Blaise pulled Draco into a hug. Draco returned it.

"It was all a game? You planned this?"

Blaise's eyes were filled with mirth. He handed Draco his wand.

"Check your accounts." He said.

Draco did and found everything as it should be.

"I don't understand. You knew- You knew that I would jump?" Draco asked.

Blaise's smile was half amusement half sorrow, "I worry about you." He said.

"Thank you," Draco replied. "For everything."

  
Blaise grabbed them each a flute of champagne and proposed a toast. "To the rest of your life, Draco Malfoy."

"I'll drink to that," Draco said.

They clinked glasses and Draco heard the onlookers clinking glasses and cheering.

"Here here!"

"Happy Birthday, Draco!"

"Woohoo!"

  
Draco looked around at the party guests, some he recognized some he didn't. He caught sight of Harry Potter. He wore a fitted suit, was holding a glass flute in his hand and acting ever the wallflower. Draco excused himself. 

Blaise nodded and smiled, "Happy Birthday, Cousin."

Draco patted Blaise on the back as he walked past.

  
Draco nodded and tipped his glass to party attendants as he passed them. His grin split his face as he spied Missy in attendance. She was waving stupidly at him and he loved it.

The music changed songs and brass horn permeated the air. Draco approached Potter and the two stared at one another.

Potter set his glass on a nearby table.

"Do you want to get out of here?" He asked

Draco grinned, "Only if you promise to tell me how you and Blaise cooked all this up."

Harry smiled, "promise."

Draco held out his arm. Potter settled his own into it and they walked out of the party and into the invigorating nighttime air.

 

**_The End._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is loosely based around the 1997 movie "The Game."
> 
> I would have copped to it earlier, but I didn't want to spoil the story.
> 
> Thank you for reading.  
> Please, feel free to tell me what you think.  
> Cheers!


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry talk over coffee.

"So, Potter."

"Malfoy," Potter said.

"Here we are," Draco gestured around them. "We sit over coffee, now spill."

"Start at the beginning." He added.

Harry stirred his coffee. The tinkling of the spoon blending in with the coffee shop's atmosphere.

"Alright." Harry said, "your game started 2 years ago."

"What!?" Draco sat up, gobsmacked.

Harry smirked and sipped his beverage.

"2 years ago?" Draco asked, concerned.

Harry put down his coffee and clasped his hands around it. He raised his eyebrow in question, "Do you want me to tell you? Or do you want to keep gaping at me like a fish?"

Draco shook himself, "Yes. Do tell."

Harry nodded, "Right. So Blaise showed up into my office 2 years ago. He had just completed his own CRS game. He was in a state, as you can imagine. He'd barged into my office. I thought he was angry at how his game played out - but that wasn't the case."

"Oh?"

"Blaise talked to me about you. Said he was worried. He told me that he hadn't seen you since your parents' funerals. He said that you'd stopped replying to his letters, and your assistant at work always conveniently said you'd just left... Blaise felt you were depressed and he thought maybe I could help."

Harry paused a moment and stared into Draco's eyes.

"He asked me to create a game for you. He said he'd pay any price, so long as I created the same effect he'd experienced within his own his game."

Draco was still so confused, "What is a game? What does that even mean?"

Harry kept his hands warm around his hot coffee, "It means, that after the war I didn't know what to do with myself. I had just experienced a ton of out of this world, amazing circumstances - saved the wizarding world, you know, and I had all this money, and fame; and everyone was looking at me to become something..."

Draco stayed silent.

"So, I was kinda bumming around. Everyone else was going to school or had jobs, and I-"

Harry smiled at Draco, as he gathered his thoughts.

Draco was curious.

"I was in a slump. Depressed. And Percy Weasley was really hard on me at the time. He's like an older brother to me so he didn't hold any punches. We fought, constantly. I grew vindictive. I wished for him to experience a few crazy events, to make him realize that it's a lot harder to be Harry Potter then he thought. So, I set up this huge, elaborate prank."

"I used a lot of friends and my notoriety to get some random witches and wizards to help me. I set up an obstacle course, a terror-filled one- of course, it was all safe, everyone but Percy knew it was a joke, a prank- a game."

"It was basically just a murder mystery plot, and Percy ran from objective to objective with the feeling of a murderer stalking him. I put Percy at the center of the plot. Just as I had been. I had him work his way towards the killer - well, I eventually forced him into the encounter, but the results were the same."

"And then, once Percy was scared and hopeless-- at his wits end, I told him it was all a joke. A twisted game to put him in his place."

Harry paused as he remembered.

"Percy had fallen to his knees, sobbing. He'd begged me to forgive him for being such an ignorant prat and he'd been so beyond grateful that it was all a trick."

"Once Percy realized his life was back to safe and normal, he'd revealed to me that he felt he had more of an understanding of what I had went through with Voldemort. He revealed that after his 3 days running for his life, all he wanted to do now was set all the complicated things behind him and just be..."

Harry sipped his coffee again.

"It was then that Percy, half in jest, said, "You should do this as a job, Harry! Changing peoples perspectives."

Harry smiled, "He's incorrigible when it comes to serving the community. But he was right."

Harry shook his head, "Anyway, so, I took it to heart. I have a talent for thinking up murder plots. I brainstorm and type up the most preposterously evil things I can think of. And then I inflict them on people."

Draco smiled. "So you turned your prank into a job?"

Harry smiled back at the blond.

"Yep. I've been doing this for about 6 years now. I started CRS, short for "Cathartic Reaction Simulator", in a small shop in Diagon Alley and now I own a skyscraper in muggle London. Every single floor, save the rooftop loft, is used in the CRS games."

"That whole building?" Draco gaped.

"Yeah, It's all fake tho. I'll show you sometime if you'd like?' Harry asked.

Draco nodded. He bit his lip a moment and then asked, "Why did you-"

Draco swallowed. He'd done it. He'd jumped to his death off the side of a high rise, yet he couldn't say the words.

"Why did I get you to kill yourself?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded, staring imploring into green eyes. He had to know.

  
Harry stared back.

"Or, would you rather know why I had you kill yourself instead of the standard mystery plot most CRS participants get?"

Draco gulped, "The latter."

Harry took a deep breath.

"I had planned on you doing a mystery plot, in the beginning. When Blaise came to me, I figured a great game for you would be for you to prove me to be a dark wizard - all the while having no one believe you - say, having you see me doing something illegal, like imperio someone..."

"That would have been novel," Draco said grinning.

"But it wouldn't have helped you with any psychological catharsis. Which is primarily why I do what I do. Most people are pretty simple beings, they crave a little adventure, but like to be safe. They like habits."

Draco kept quiet.

"Your game changed the moment you walked into CRS and signed up."

Draco gulped, "Why?"

"Normally, the way it goes down is I set up a script, we get the player into the office and start the game. The set up is always the same for everyone. We run participants through the ringer to wear them out. I use this meeting to do a light reading of the player's mind from the next room."

"You read my mind!" Draco hissed over his coffee, looking around furtively.

Harry licked his lips and continued, "You signed off on it Malfoy."

"When?" he asked.

"It's all in the paperwork. No one ever gets that far, though, they freak out over the expense.' Harry said.

Draco knew he'd done exactly that, "So you read my mind. What made you change my game?"

"You didn't care if you died," Harry said simply.

Draco sat back in his chair staring into Harry potters brilliantly green eyes. Draco knew Harry was finally getting to the heart of the matter and he didn't know if he really wanted Harry Potter's opinion on his life.

Taking a deep breath Draco said, "Go on."

"Do you want to know what I saw, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded.

"I saw you do the same exact thing every single day since your parents commit suicide. You woke up and you went to work to amass more money to make your dead father proud. You've cut out every single part of yourself from your life. You're alone. Unfeeling. Your soul's disconnected from your body. And you've locked yourself away."

Draco sneered. He was going to deny it when Potter continued,

"You're gay. Yet, you haven't let yourself even think of another in a loving or sexual capacity since that day. You believe your parents killed themselves because of the photo in the prophet - that they would rather die than have a gay son."

Draco felt sick. He didn't know what to say so he looked down into the depths of his coffee as Harry continued.

"I didn't need Blaise to tell me, I could see how alone you were, Malfoy. You'd cut everyone from your life. You have no personal attachments. The only constant in your life was your fortune. And stealing your money was fun for me, sure, and it propelled you thru your game, but it didn't spark any true catharsis."

"I saw a few fragmented memories as I read you," Harry continued, "A fear of being buried alive, a fear of being without your wand, which is why you got a muggle gun in the first place; and how terrified of muggle culture you still are."

Draco looked up, feeling the need to add, "I have a muggle gun, Potter."

"You have two muggle inventions. Period. You're still a pureblood at heart."

Draco returned his gaze to his coffee.

"You remember the telephone numbers, during the game? I put those in to make you feel more trapped. I knew you wouldn't use them. Even though everywhere you went there was a muggle phone."

"Oh," Draco said. He felt foolish. "What else did you see, when you looked inside my head?"

"I saw that you have a fear of the press. Being caught out acting inappropriately. Perhaps drunk or drugged... You're still so chaste and virginal, you're terrified of what might happen if you let yourself be with someone."

Draco looked up into Potters eyes. He worried his lip with his teeth. He felt bare and exposed. Unable to defend himself.

"That's why the pictures in my desk..." He said.

Harry nodded, staring into Malfoy's eyes.

"I saw me," Harry said.

Draco swallowed, "Oh?" He asked.

"You've been keeping tabs on me thru that Wizard telly. It's your guilty pleasure. You haven't heard anything real tho, Malfoy. All the news speaks of is Harry Potter seen through the eyes of CRS participants."

"That's why there are all those weird stories about you!" Draco connected the dots, "You're playing in peoples games and it's leaking into everyday life"

Harry smiled.

"It's actually really funny, from my point of view," Harry said, 'I've been everything: bi- gay- straight- half centaur-- you name it. "

They sat in silence for a moment. Draco guessed Potter was giving him some time to digest all he'd heard. He was glad because his mind was racing and he had so many questions.

"Did you ever put Weasley and Granger through a CRS game?" Draco asked.

Harry smirked. "Yes."

"And how did that go?"

Harry's eyes smiled at Draco as he spoke, "I actually planned one for both Ron and Hermione together. Had to, really, since they're glued at the hip. There was no way I'd have been able to do them separately. It was hard enough keeping it secret from them for so long. It worked, though. I tricked them both."

Draco liked basking in the happiness radiating off of the Boy Who Lived.

"So, did you help them? Give them some catharsis?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, I did. I'm glad it worked out the way it did."

"Who was the best game you've ever run?" Draco asked.

Harry frowned, " I don't know. They're all so different. Personal. I guess I don't rank the games. I just get gratification from helping people. I don't really do much but force people to show their own true colors. If I can at least make them challenged their own perspectives for a moment, then the game was a success."

"What's your success rate?"

"You'll have to tell me. You're the latest game." Harry said

Draco suddenly recalled one of the most frightening experiences from the game. Being trapped in a coffin and having to find a way his own way out.

"So, what happens now?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged, "Well, mainly I want to ask you how you felt. When you realized that your fortune was untouched, that Blaise was alive, that you weren't going mad... That you were alive... How did you feel?"

Draco contemplated, "I felt like... it didn't matter."

"What didn't?" Harry asked.

"Nothing... Anything... The money, the pain I've been carrying. I-"

Draco cut himself off.

Harry nodded and sipped his drink as he waited for Draco to finish his thought.

"When I-" Draco waved his hand around, "Gave up, for lack of a better word- it was freeing. To not be so tightly in control. To-"

"Just be you?" Harry supplied.

Draco smiled, relieved. "Exactly. Like I didn't have to care about anyone else anymore. Like maybe I deserve a little bit of love and happiness too."

Harry's eyes crinkled as he smiled.

"Of course, you do, Draco."

Draco's lips twisted to the side. He was embarrassed for being so open and honest.

"So that's it. The games over. The great Harry Potter got me to kill myself to realize that I actually want to live, so what now? " He asked.

"What do you want to do next, Malfoy?"

Draco thought.

"I actually don't know. I only know that I don't want to go back to the manor yet."

Harry pulled out his wallet and tossed some money on their table.

"Come on, I want to show you something," Potter said.

He stood, and Draco followed. They walked out of the cafe and down the road. Harry led the way and once they stood outside of the massive CRS building Draco turned to Potter.

"What are we doing here?" Draco asked.

"Come on," Harry said as he entered the front doors.

They took the elevator up to the 27th floor.

"This is where I live," Potter said as the elevator dinged and the doors slid to the side.

Draco curiously looked around as they entered an open concept loft that took up the entire floor of the building.

"Wow!" Draco said as he looked around. The place was clean and sleek, modern and conservative. There was a small dog sleeping in a wicker basket by a muggle high tech fireplace.

Draco moved into the living room and found himself moving towards the large glass windows that dominated the walls of the room. Draco stood next to them, staring a long way down at the city below. Muggle London was majestic.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Harry said coming to stand beside him.

Draco nodded and turned to look at Potter. "It is." He said.

"I need to confess something," Harry said.

Draco looked into Harry's eyes.

"I'm sure we're beyond imprudence, Potter."

"I've fallen for you," Harry said. "I know that you're not looking for anything. I think I know that better then most, actually," Harry swallowed nervously, "The thing is, I like you Draco. And, I think, I'd like to get to know you better."

Draco stared at Harry Potter, uncomprehendingly.

Harry smiled as he reached out and tentatively took Draco's hand.

"You know, you can do anything you want in this life, Draco. Anything you set your heart to. As long as you're alive."

Draco squeezed the Potters hand.

"Thank you, Harry," Draco said as he looked down on muggle London thru the large glass windows. "For everything."


End file.
